Slipped Right Through My Fingers
by LoveTurtle
Summary: 'I'm all alone now, there's no one...' AU Warning: Character might be slightly OOC. R&R.


**AN: Hello Everyone. Here is just a little something I wrote in the middle of the night. Depending on reviews and views, I might continue it. Well, enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia nor it's characters, because if I did, would I really be posting fanfiction? Haha. **

Arthur didn't know what to feel at this point. Looking down at the younger, the massive wave of pain, sadness, and grief that washed over him, was unbearable, unclear to which emotion to take more control. Gentile drops of clear liquid dropped onto Alfred's sleeping face. He was crying, tears streaming down pale cheeks, sobs chocking their way out of thin, chapped lips. He was still coming to terms with what has happened. Alfred, the joy of his life, the one who held him up, his true love that promised to never leave him (to which that promise was still held in a way) and to care for him. Alfred, who was his reason to live...Was as close to death you could get while still being alive.

Alfred was in a coma.

Arthur leaned over his sleeping form, figiting hands cupping, feeling, occasionally slapping the American face of his dear Alfred.

"Wake up. Wake up! Wake the bloody hell up git!"

Arthur screamed these words over and over, trying to coax Alfred out of his dreamless sleep, or even wake himself from this nightmare. How was he supposed to get by without Alfred? The tears stained Alfred's face, almost making it look like he was crying. How Arthur wished that was true. That he would cry with Arthur, tears of joy. Alfred and Arthur would be together again! He would wake up and everything would go back to the way it was before! Before all the hateful words. Before all the accusations. Before all the yelling and the screaming, the running and finally...the car.

It's amazing how one fight, how one too many drinks, and the wrong timing all fit together to create one tragic, one mind numbingly painful outcome.

Gilbert walked into the room, his ever ego-tastic attitude following him just like his bird. Though he wore a solem expression, even his eyes glazed over with tears that refused to fall, a comforting aura seemed to hang around him. Arthur knew he was in the room, having finally calmed down enough. He still refused, however, to leave to the room or even be extracted from a three foot radius of the hospital bed. Arms cloaked in a black jacket layed crossed on Alfred's chest, the Brit's head laying ontop of them in an attempted pillow. His emerald eyes scanning over Gilbert walking towards him.

"What do you want, prat?"

Though the words were to be laced with venom and resentment, they were cracked, whining, almost pleas for help.

"Calm down, Brit. The Awesome Me just...West sent me over to make sure you were okay."

It was a sorry attempt at asking if Arthur was in need of comfort, but what more is to be expected of Gilbert Beilschmidt?

"My life was just ripped out of my hands and run over by a car. Do you really think, even the tiniest bit, that I'm okay?"

"W-Well...It could be worse..."

This is a life lesson for anybody. Never, under any circumstance, ever say to anyone in a similar situation, or another of the sort, that it could be worse.

"How in the bloody hell, could it be worse?"

"You know what, Brit? I don't give a rat's ass about you! Alfred was somewhat a friend to me, but you were just a little tag that came attached with him!"

"Then why are you even wasting time conversing with me?"

...

The silence was heavy in the room. Arthur still had his head resting on Alfred's chest, feeling the soft signs of life; A heartbeat, the rising of his chest. He moved his hand so it entangled with the American's. He almost swore he felt him squeeze back, but that would be...too good to be true. Another tear escaped, dropping down onto the bed clothes. He then remembered the other presence in the room. Gilbert stood, staring at the small dislays of affection, almost reminding him of his time with Matthew...No

No tears for the awesome Prussian!

He almost smirked at the small comment in his head, but chose to walk over to the mourning Brit, taking a place next to him.

"He'll wake up...Won't he?"

Although it was an unanswerable question, Arthur felt the need to ask. The Doctor walked away from him when he asked, as did the nurses and aids, even the damnable Frog walked out of the room when he asked. He wanted answers, God damnit!

"Well...Artie...I do-...You know what? He will. Maybe within the hour, or maybe in 10 years, but I swear to you, Alfred will. Wake. Up."

The way he said it, did he mean that? Was Alfred really going to wake up?

Arthur got what he wanted, an answer to assure himself of something that was inassurable. As the questions swirled in his head, outside his head he was crying again. Resting his forehead on his arms, sob after sob wracked him again. Gilbert slipped a hand over his shoulders, pulling Arthur into his chest, letting him seek comfort in something that wasn't in a comatose state. A pale hand worked its way up into Arthur's hair, the other rubbing comforting circles into his back while Arthur sobbed into the albino's white and gray striped hoodie, his arms wrapped tightly around Gilbert's midsection.

They stayed like that for a long time, holding each other, sharing sobs, a few comforting words, even a tear drenched smile. It continued to the point of Arthur falling asleep in his arms. Gilbert shaked his head at the Brit, smiling lightly as he set Arthur on a chair in the room.

The German looked down at his once-friend. Alfred and him had known each other for years. Since kindergarden for hell's sake! A rouge tear rolled down his face.

"Alfred, I swear to Gott, if you don't wake up, I will personally kick your ass in Heaven when I get there."

Gilbert picked up Arthur bridal style.

'Just like Mattie...'

He thought to himself, making his way out of the hospital.


End file.
